


My Everything

by howsthismylife



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Stucky - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Asthma attack, Developing Relationship, Family, First Kiss, Fluff, Kid Fic, Love, M/M, Stucky - Freeform, hand holding, how do you tag, kid!Bucky, kid!steve, steve fights, then they grow up, they start out as kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 07:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4616247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howsthismylife/pseuds/howsthismylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve’s mother died a woman came into their house smiling sadly. She introduced herself as Winifred Barnes and told him that from now on he’ll be living with her and her family. This was the first time Steve had met Winifred. He did not know the woman and his mother had never mentioned someone with that name. It’s only later that Steve would find out that his mother and Winifred were best friends. And that Sarah entrusted Steve on Winifred’s care.</p><p>Or, a story of how Steve Rogers found a family, a friend, and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been obsessed and heart broken by reading The Song of Achilles and I was inspired to write this story about Steve and Bucky. I think there are a lot of parallels between the two pairings.
> 
> This story starts as when they were kids.
> 
> I haven't written anything in a long time so excuse me for the errors.

When Steve’s mother died a woman came into their house smiling sadly. She introduced herself as Winifred Barnes and told him that from now on he’ll be living with her and her family. This was the first time Steve had met Winifred. He did not know the woman and his mother had never mentioned someone with that name. It’s only later that Steve would find out that his mother and Winifred were best friends. And that Sarah entrusted Steve on Winifred’s care.

                She helped him pack Steve’s stuff up. Not that there was anything to pack up; his medicines were probably heavier than his clothes. Steve had only a couple of shirts, sweaters, a jacket, socks, and some pants. Being only five Steve had already quite the idea on what’s happening: his mother was gone and not coming back. And now he’s going to live with Winifred and her family.

                He grabbed the sketchpad his mother gave him for his birthday from the bedside table. Steve liked drawing. And his mother always praised him when he showed his work to her. Steve’s not stupid though, he’s only five and he knows that his drawings were not really that good. But Steve liked seeing Sarah smile.

                There would be a time that Steve would cry as they rummage around his room. Winifred would always hug him and rub her hands gently on his back. Steve then would close his eyes and imagine it was his mom doing it. But then Winifred pulls back and the magic was gone.

                “Ready to go, Steve?” Winifred asked softly.

                Steve wanted to say no; he wanted to stay at their home and . . . but then he remembered his mother was gone. He nodded.

 

 

Winifred’s house was bigger than theirs. It had two floors whereas Steve and his mother used to live in an apartment. He hesitated stepping inside when Winifred opened the door and she smiled at him and lead him in gently.

                It was bright. Steve remembered blinking a couple of times trying to adjust his vision when someone stepped in front of him, too close for his liking, and started smiling at him. The kid was taller than him, he had brown hair and he’s missing a tooth. But that wasn’t what caught Steve’s attention. It was the boy’s eyes that did; blue with a hint of green. Steve did not know how to describe it but he doesn’t mind being lost in it.

                “Steve,” Winifred said. “This is Bucky, my son.”

                “Hi!” The boy – Bucky waved and Steve waved back shyly.

                “Bucky, honey, why don’t you show Steve your room?”

                “Okay!” Bucky jumped then grabbed Steve’s hands and ran upstairs.

                “Careful!” Steve heard Winifred yell. He didn’t care though, all he felt was the warmth of Bucky’s hands on his.

                Catching his breath, they entered a room with blue walls and white ceiling. It had a bed draped with a comforter with pictures of trains on them. There were books in the bookshelf about dinosaurs, solar system, and robots. There were toys littered on the floor. Steve liked it. He had never seen anything like this before.

                Bucky started rambling about things and Steve couldn’t catch up with it. His eyes were fixed on a coloring book lying on Bucky’s bed.

                “You want to color?” Bucky must have noticed. Steve nodded.

                They color for a while. Steve liked the blues and the greens which reminded him of Bucky’s eyes. He’s pretty good at coloring and Bucky told him so too.

                Winifred knocked on the door not long after they started looking at pictures of dinosaurs. She was smiling down at them.

                “C’mon Steve, I’ll show you your room,” she said.

                “Can Steve sleep here in my room?” Bucky said before Steve could even stand up.

                Winifred didn’t answer for a second before turning to Steve and saying, “Well it’s up to Steve. If it’s okay with him.”

                “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded.

                And that’s how Steve found himself lying on a mattress they helped Winifred set up on the floor beside Bucky’s bed. Winifred had told them to sleep; tomorrow’s a Saturday and they’d be unpacking Steve’s stuffs.

                “Ma,” he whispered in the dark, clutching a photo of him and his mother against his frail chest. Bucky’s already sleeping, sprawled on his bed with his mouth opened. “I miss you already.”

                Later that night when Steve woke up to pee he heard Winifred crying on her room. He peaked inside, making a creaking noise as the door slowly opened, and Winifred turned to look at him. She wiped her eyes and sniffed, apologizing and smiling at Steve at the same time. He walked towards her and hugged her tight. Steve felt her arms tighten around him and she cried some more. Steve just stared at the window where the moon and a couple of stars were visible and wondered if his mother was one of them.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve met Jimmy the next day. The man was staring down at Steve and he felt anxious. Jimmy had stubbles on his face and rumpled hair and his eyes had dark circles around them. Jimmy did not smile. Instead he went to the kitchen where Winifred was cooking lunch and Steve started hearing loud voices, shouting, so Steve turned off the hearing aid on his left ear to lessen the noise.

                Bucky came downstairs upon hearing the shouting. He grabbed Steve’s hand without a word and they walked upstairs to Bucky’s room and played with the toy robots.

                “It always happens,” Bucky said. “You’ll get used to it.”

                But Steve did not get used to it. Jimmy would shout at Winifred all throughout the day about not having enough money and about being laid off from work, about Steve. And Jimmy would shout at Winifred throughout the year until Winifred had had enough and Jimmy left. Steve thinks it was his fault. He was still a kid but Jimmy’s words echoed on his mind every night. Winifred kept on assuring him it had nothing to do with him but Steve thought that’s what adults always say.

                Bucky got sad. But after a couple of weeks Winifred found out she was pregnant. Bucky smiled again. And so Steve did too.

                They had started sharing beds a couple of weeks after Steve’s stay on the Barnes household. Bucky insisted he sleep beside him to which Steve politely declined. But Bucky was persuasive and Steve really could not say no to those eyes.

                They would sleep together, and in the middle of the night where Steve had to pee, he’d gently lift Bucky’s legs off of him and go to the bathroom. Some nights Steve would see Winifred sitting on the edge of her bed, some nights Steve would hear her cry and he lets her hug him until she stopped. Some nights it would be Steve who was crying, biting his lips because he doesn’t want Bucky to wake up. But the nightmares were slowly fading each night he sleeps beside Bucky. Bucky’s warm presence was slowly becoming a constant in his life and Steve could not imagine living a day without him.

                Bucky was slowly becoming his sun and Steve could feel it.

 

When Steve turned 6 Winifred enrolled him and Bucky on the public school. Winifred couldn’t afford to enroll them both on kindergarten so she took time on homeschooling them. Steve had interest over the arts and Bucky liked science. So Winifred bought Steve an art set for his birthday and Bucky gave him the coloring book they did at when Steve first came to their lives. He thinks it was a great birthday.

                First grade was a scary experience for Steve. Winifred had packed his bags herself, making sure his inhaler, epipen, and other medicines where inside. Steve could see other kids crying, their parents rubbing hands on their kid’s backs. He wondered if his mom would do the same if she was alive. But then Bucky was holding his hand with a grin on his face and Winifred was smiling down at them. And Steve didn’t feel scared anymore.

                They were both on the same class. Steve sat beside the window and Bucky sat beside him. Other students started filing in and Steve fidgets on his seat. This was the first time he’d be in a room full of kids. This would be the first time he’d be meeting kids who weren’t Bucky.

                There weren’t a lot to do. Their classes went by smoothly and Steve did not have any problems with being ignored – ‘cause that’s what’s happening – the kids were ignoring him. Steve couldn’t blame them actually; who would want to hang out with a short skinny kid who looked like he’d die if someone breathed on his face. He was contented though, sitting in the corner with his sketchbook perched on his lap. He watched other kids play during recess and Steve was pretty content.

                Bucky had invited him to play with the other kids but Steve refused. Playing was not really Steve’s area; he’s more of a sit in a corner type of kid. So Bucky left him alone while he played with the others. And Steve dutifully watched him from the corner.

                He had never seen Bucky this happy before. Yes, they would play with Bucky’s toys in his room, and yes, they would try and wrestle with each other some nights but this was the first time Steve saw Bucky full on laugh like he was really having fun. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous.

                And growing up Steve would think that this was where Bucky really belonged: to the crowd. Everybody seemed to like Bucky Barnes and Steve had watched him from afar. He would be there where girls and boys would openly flirt with Bucky when Steve was just there beside him. He would be there when jocks would line up convincing Bucky to join their team, what with Bucky being athletic and all. Steve Rogers would be there through it all, beside Bucky Barnes. And Steve would be happy for Bucky, and although some time he would feel hurt, Steve would bury it deep within and smile.

                He would watch Bucky grow from his toy cars and action figures to this teenager with eyes full of soul and a smile that could stop people’s tracks.

                Steve would be there through it all, beside Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think so far.  
> Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

He had started getting into a lot of fights. Steve just couldn’t stand when someone was being bullied. So despite of his small frame he stood up to other students and had gotten his ass kicked a couple of times. He would always end up somewhere near the back of the gym with swollen eyes or a cut lip and every time Bucky would yell at him for doing something stupid and not calling for backup. Then Bucky would lead him to the infirmary where the nurse would fix him up as Bucky glared openly at him. Their juniors now.

                Winifred wasn’t exactly thrilled when she comes home to Steve covered in bandages. Steve would smile to himself because Winifred and Bucky cared so much for him. Becca, Bucky’s sister, would always follow him around whenever he got into a fight. Much like her brother she would hover and do things for him and there was nothing Steve could do but shake his head and bite his lips. Because they were so very good to him. They had been his family all these years.

                “I worry about you, Stevie,” Bucky said one night as he lay on his bed – their bed. Long gone are the comforters with train pictures on them, it was replaced with a much mature one –a plain navy blue, and Winifred had bought them a queen size bed because they refused to sleep apart all these years – also because the other room was now occupied by Becca.

                “You don’t have anything to worry about,” he said.

                “Uh, there is?” Bucky shifted and looked at him with furrowed brows. “I do all the worrying for the both of us. You can’t keep getting into fights, Steve.”

                “I can’t help it.”

                Bucky sighed. “I know you got this urge to stand up and do the right thing, but it’s not your responsibility.” He chewed the inside of his cheeks, which Steve had observed was a habit when he got agitated. But as much as Bucky looked adorable doing it Steve doesn’t like worrying Bucky.

                Steve stared at him. Bucky had grown a lot over the years. He was still taller than Steve and he was bulkier while Steve only stood at 5 foot 4 inches and a pole for a body. He was still waiting for his growth spurt but he thinks it won’t come.

                “I won’t always be there to pick up the pieces,” Bucky whispered and the moonlight was shining directly at him which made Steve wished for time to stop even for just a minute.

                “I know,” he said and they went to sleep.

                Except Steve really couldn’t sleep. He could still feel the ghost of Bucky’s hands on his when he led him to the infirmary. He could still remember how Bucky’s eyes looked like when he saw Steve slumped against the wall. He could still see it clearly, if he closed his eyes, the way Bucky smiled when Steve told him a joke as Bucky wiped the blood on his lips.

                He doesn’t know how long he could keep up with this – this warmth he feels in his chest that was threatening to consume him. It was getting problematic.

                Steve could feel Bucky silently breathing beside him which meant he was asleep. He turned gently to face him and allowed himself the momentary opportunity to etched Bucky’s features to his memory. He doesn’t know how long he’d have this – sleeping beside Bucky, having Bucky beside him. It’s selfish but Steve wanted Bucky all to himself, for as long as Bucky would allow it.

                He’d risk to trace Bucky’s lips with his fingers but his heart was already thundering in his chest by just looking at him that Steve was afraid if he’d get to touch Bucky he’d burn.

                The truth was that the reason Steve got into a lot of fights was not only because of doing what’s right, it was because he wanted to prove something to himself.  

                Steve wasn’t blind; he may be partially deaf in one ear but he wasn’t blind. He knew how he looked. People wouldn’t look at him twice – or even if they did it would be for a different reason. Compared to Bucky he was just a shadow, and Bucky was the light that casted it.

                He wanted to feel good about himself. And as messed up as it sounds, fighting makes him feel good, it makes him feel, for a moment, that he wasn’t a 5 foot 4 skinny teenager. He wanted to be enough. And being enough was all Steve asked for.

                Bucky shifted on his lips and murmured something incoherent. He stifled a chuckle because Bucky always talked on his sleep.

                He wondered how long Steve will be able to watch him. And he finally went to sleep with all the possibilities and fantasies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Steve’s chest started to feel heavy. He had been breathing harder since he ran through their school’s hallway. He knew when he was going to have an asthma attack; thankfully he always brought his inhaler with him. Steve took two puffs and held it in. In an instant his chest felt lighter and was thankful for the relief the medicine gave, but it didn’t cure his aching heart.

                _Stupid,_ he thought to himself. Steve felt stupid for thinking that he ever had a chance with Bucky – that Bucky would ever look at him the way Steve looked at him. He was plain stupid.

                He saw the flirting, he knew there was something going on with Bucky and this guy named Brock. Brock being a guy made it even more painful for Steve because . . . why couldn’t it be him? But then he remembered how he looked, so Steve just smiled bitterly to himself.

                Stupid.

                It was like Steve’s feet moved on its own when his eyes landed on Bucky and the body pressed on him against someone’s locker room. And so he ran. He just hoped Bucky didn’t notice him.

                He took his phone and sent a quick text to Bucky telling him that Sam wanted to hangout for a while – which was a lie. But Steve really needed someone to talk to and waste time with, so he looked for Sam at the field and surely he was there. Sam was on his track uniform warming up, classes had just ended and since Steve didn’t have any extracurricular activities he usually went home early.

                Sam spotted him and gave a wave. He waved back, soft smile playing on his lips. Sam was a great guy, different from the others; he didn’t bully Steve, didn’t look at him like he was a freak. And if Sam liked boys as well Steve would probably make a move or something. But Sam was straight as a pole and Steve was fine being friends with him.

                “Whaddup, Rogers?” Sam greeted.

                “Nothing much,” he shrugged. “I’ll just sit on the bleachers and sketch.”

                “You could always join that art club, you know.” Sam said.

                “You know what?” he raised an eyebrow. “I think I will.”

                That afternoon he poured his frustrations on the remaining blank pages of his sketchbook. Steve turned off his phone so he could concentrate well. As Sam trained with the others Steve got lost on his own world, and Steve wished to stay there and never go back. But eventually he did, Sam tapped him on his shoulders and Steve looked up. Sam was already showered and ready to go home. And so Steve gathered his things, there was a frown on Sam’s face but he ignored it, and walked together out of campus.

                Tomorrow Steve would sign up for the art club, he would show his profile to the club president and they would all be impressed. One of the members would say to him, “Where have you been all this time?” and Steve would smile and blush.

                That night though, when Steve got home after getting milkshake with Sam, Winifred would raise her eyebrows at him. It was only 6pm.

                “You’re not with Bucky?” she would say. And Steve would shrug and say, “Sam wanted to hangout,” before going upstairs to his and Bucky’s room.

                It was a Friday night and Steve lay on their bed staring at the ceiling. Wherever Steve looked all he could see were Brock’s hands lingering on Bucky’s waist as they kissed. It was already 8 in the evening when Steve remembered that he turned off his phone. He turned it back on and saw there were 13 text messages and 8 missed calls all coming from Bucky. Steve called back.

                “Hello?” Bucky answered. He sounded breathless.

                “Hey . . .”

                “Don’t you fucking ‘hey’ me,” Bucky gritted. “Where the fuck are you? I called Sam; he said you went home hours ago.”

                “Uh, we went to get milkshakes,” his voice seemed small.

                “I gathered that, you punk!” Bucky shouted. Bucky had never raised his voice at Steve. “I’ve been worried sick! I couldn’t contact you. Someone said they saw you breathing hard. What – where are you?”

                “I’m at home.”

                “Fuck –” Bucky cussed and the line went dead.

                Steve stared at his phone, brows furrowed, before pocketing it back. He heard loud footsteps coming from the stairs and a moment later the door burst open to Bucky panting, with sweat on his forehead like he ran all the way from school.

                Bucky dropped his bag down on the floor and within two long angry strides he slapped Steve at the back of his head and before Steve could even react Bucky was hugging him tightly. He buried his head on Steve’s neck and for a moment Steve couldn’t breathe. But then he did when he felt Bucky sigh, his whole body moving with it. And Steve felt that warm moisture on his neck a moment later when Bucky refused to let go. There were barely audible sniffs as if Bucky was hiding the fact that he was crying. Steve’s heart broke.

                “Bucky,” he whispered.

                “Shut up,” it was muffled, and Bucky sniffed. He pulled off Steve gingerly and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Steve was breathing hard now. He couldn’t bear to see Bucky like this, knowing that he was the reason Bucky was acting like this. “Don’t you do that again, you punk.”

                “Do what?” Steve said. But he knew what Bucky meant. “I’m sorry,” he said after Bucky didn’t say anything.

                “I thought something bad happened to you.”

                “You’ll be the first to know if that happens.”

                “So, you’re okay?”

                “I’m fine,” he nodded and forced a smile. Knowing that Bucky cared was enough.

                It was after midnight, when both of them were lying on their bed, that Steve would say, “So, Brock huh?” and Bucky would turn to him with this exasperated look on his face.

                “He’s a fuckin’ douchenozzle.”

                “Douchenozzle?”

                “He asked me out on a date,” Bucky started. “We went to fucking Olive Garden,” he shook his head when he said it, “then talked about stuffs I didn’t care about. Then . . .”

                “Then what?”

                Bucky paused, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before saying, “He asked me what I was doing hanging out with you. I told him you live in my house. He said – he’s a – he’s a fucking dick is what he is! So I grabbed all the breadsticks I could and shoved it to my purse and said I had to go home immediately.”

                Steve barked out a laugh. Bucky smiled softly at him.

                “He was just good looking is all,” Bucky said after a while. “His personality sucks.”

                “I gathered as much.”

                “Besides,” Bucky sighed. The moon was up high and Steve felt like he was hanging by the moment. “I think I’ve already had someone I like a long time ago.”  He said it so softly that Steve almost missed it. But he didn’t. And there was this warmth in his chest that travelled all throughout his body and Steve didn’t know what to do with it.

                They stayed silent after that. Steve felt really tired all of a sudden and his eyes started to droop. He was in between that state of sleep and wake that he wasn’t sure if the hand slipping gently into his was a dream or not.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter

It was already summer. Steve was 17 and he got a job at the local bookstore he frequently visited whenever he had the money to buy supplies for his art. It wasn’t a regular thing; Mr. Coulson was kind enough to offer him a job at the store which he had accepted with a big smile on his face. Steve’s shift was in the afternoon, and all he would be doing was to help Mr. Coulson arrange the books back in order, clean the place down and help him lock up. With Steve’s frame and built he thought this was the perfect job for him as of the moment. He loved books and sometimes Steve would come early to browse at the titles. Reading privately was prohibited and Mr. Coulson told him so when he caught Steve one time. Instead of yelling at him or firing him Mr. Coulson bought the book and gave it to him.

                “Thank you, Mr. Coulson,”

                “Just call me Phil, Steve,”

                He smiled when he got his first paycheck. It wasn’t a lot but Steve grew up not having a lot and a couple of bills made him smile. He would be a senior next school year and Steve needed to start saving for his future.

                Bucky on the other hand got a job at a mechanic shop helping the employees on fixing electronic gadgets ranging from broken televisions to radios. It wasn’t much but Bucky was learning and Steve thinks Bucky was happy with it by those times he would go home to find Bucky hunched up with tools on his hands disassembling a playstation on their bedroom floor.

                This was the first time that Steve was earning money and when he had saved up a little he had offered to give it to Winifred to which she smiled teary, shaking her head gently, pushing the envelope back to Steve’s hands.

                “Save that for yourself, Steven,” she said softly. Winifred would call him Steven when she remembers his mother – her face slowly fading on his memory and whenever that happened he always stared at a picture of his mother he had, tracing the slowly aging picture with his calloused fingers and smiling softly. There’s not a day where Steve didn’t missed Sarah Rogers.

                He got ill one time; he woke up with stuffy nose and his head felt heavy. Still, he insisted on going to work that afternoon and Bucky wasn’t happy with it. The summer air was messing up his allergies and he had started sniffing the moment he got out of bed. Bucky had herded him on the couch downstairs, made him a mug of tea and made him drink his meds. He turned on the TV and sat beside Steve.

                “Don’t you have work today?” he said.

                “Hell if I leave you here, punk.”

                “Bucky . . .”

                Bucky turned to him and Steve shuts up. He always knew that Bucky cared very much about him but seeing those eyes filled with worry made his chest ache somehow.

                They spent the whole day at the house; Bucky would cook lunch and made snacks, force fed Steve when he needed to take his meds, and made him drink a lot of water. That afternoon they were watching a show both of them hadn’t seen yet. Steve’s eyes were feeling heavier by the minute and after a while he fell asleep. He didn’t know for how long, though, but when he woke up Bucky’s arm was draped over his shoulders and Steve’s head was resting on Bucky’s shoulder. The TV was already turned off and Steve gingerly lifted his head up, not wanting to wake Bucky up, and saw Winifred milling around the kitchen. She saw him and gave him a warm smile. Steve was already feeling better.

                That night, after a bowl of soup and some more meds, they lay on their bed and Bucky made him wear socks because Steve’s feet gets cold easily.

                “I will always worry about you, Stevie,” Bucky said softly.

                They were both staring at the ceiling, and the butterflies started fluttering on Steve’s stomach. He’s getting warm all over. It’s amazing how Bucky could make him feel this way with such simple things. And just as every night since it began Steve falls asleep holding Bucky’s hand.  
06


	6. Chapter 6

Senior year started as fast as summer went. Steve had saved money that he kept on a wooden box hidden in their closet. A couple of times he offered Winifred to give a couple as a small act of gratitude but as always Winifred just smiled at him and said no.

                When he and Bucky reached the school they stood at the front door. This was their last year and Bucky was obviously ecstatic about it, considering the glint in his eyes. Steve was happy as well, he never really thought he’d reached this point after his mother died. He knew now that most kids who lost their parents at such a young age went through a system. He was fortunate for being taken care of under Winifred, and not a single day Steve felt ungrateful for it. For he would never get the chance to meet Bucky if things took a different turn.

                And speaking of Bucky, he could feel excitement vibrating through him, Steve didn’t have an idea, still doesn’t have an idea, as to what they were. He was afraid to ask. They held hands sometimes, during nights mostly, and it never failed to put a smile on his face. But that was just about it. Bucky hadn’t made any move past holding hands. Most of their friends teased them for being an old married couple which made him flush every time, but Bucky didn’t seem fazed about it.

                He would ponder, as they walk through the hallways for the last year, how lucky he was that he got to be by Bucky’s side, how blessed he must have been to hold his hand, to stare at those eyes and make him laugh. Sometimes Steve thought of shrugging off every ounce of anxiety on him and just kiss Bucky, but he hadn’t. And sometimes he would wonder how Bucky’s lips would feel on his.

                When he noticed a girl look at Bucky dreamily and giggles when Bucky winked at her Steve realized he could only wonder. He could watch but never touch, and he could only feel but it wasn’t real enough.

 

Bucky had grown a lot over the summer. He was a couple of inches taller than Steve was and Bucky gained muscle mass ever since he started working at the mechanical shop. His shoulders were more pronounced compared to last year and, obviously, Bucky got a lot more confident about it. He started growing out his hair and once Steve told him he preferred the clean cut better Bucky cut his hair the next day.

                That had to mean something, right?

                _Right?_

                Bucky stood taller now, his head raised, and was smiling a lot more. Becca teased him about it sometimes and Steve would notice that Bucky would scowl at his sister but he’d dip his head and blush.

                With all these good things happening to Bucky it was getting harder for Steve. He was still skinny compared to most of his batch-mates – he was right when he guessed his growth spurt was something that wouldn’t come, he was still short – shorter than Bucky, and his shoulders were comparable as to what middle-schoolers would have.

                It wasn’t healthy for Steve – thinking about all these insecurities developing inside his head, and he knows this.

                But when every night, as they lay on their bed just thinking of something’s and anything’s, and Bucky would hold his hand and look into his eyes, Steve would think that maybe Bucky didn’t bother with it as much as Steve did.

 

One time at lunch, they were seated at their usual spot at the cafeteria together with their friends, Natasha looked up and pointed at Steve with her fork and said, “So, Steve, Sharon was asking me about you earlier this morning.”

                Steve looked up and quirked his brow, “And?”

                “And . . . she seemed interested in you.”

                “O – okay?”

                “Okay?” Natasha raised her brow and smirked. “That’s it? She seemed nice.”

                “I’m sure she is.”

                Steve knew who Sharon was, they had History together, and, of course, Steve noticed the glances and the smiles and the talking, but he just thought of it as someone being nice to him. Although there was a part of him that thought that Sharon was beautiful and nice and smart, and that she would be someone Steve saw as someone who he might have an interest with, but Steve hadn’t entertained the thought even more because his heart, his whole being, already belonged to someone else. And that someone else was eyeing him from where he was seated across Steve.

                Natasha, playing the matchmaker that she was, said, “She is, and I think you two would be good together.”

                “What is it with you with playing matchmaker and stuff?” it was Bucky who said it.

                Natasha shrugged, “Nothing,” there was this dangerous smirk on her lips and Steve swallowed. “I just want to see Steve happy.”

                “He’s happy,” Bucky said.

                “I am,” Steve nodded.

                Later that afternoon, when class was ended, and Steve walked to the art room he saw Natasha waiting for him by the door.

                “How long?” Natasha said.

                “Excuse me?” said Steve, peering inside the room before stepping inside.

                “I mean, how long have you liked Barnes.”

                Steve froze. He hadn’t told anyone about his feelings for Bucky. No one was supposed to know he was harboring feelings for his best friend. Although this was Natasha and nothing gets past by her, and he figured he couldn’t lie because everybody had told him he was a bad liar. So, Steve turned to her, and as honestly as he could he said, “Since I was five,” and it was true. Steve had liked Bucky the moment he took Steve’s hand that fateful night and showed him his bedroom.

                Natasha nodded. She knew about the history of Steve and how he came to live with the Barnes family. She was a good friend to him, and never once judged him for the things he does.

                “You will have to move on at some point,” she said softly. Steve’s eyebrows rose up and he frowned. _Why would she say that?_ Steve thought about saying what’s on his mind but there was this look on Natasha’s eyes that made his words died on his throat.  She then ruffled his hair before walking out of the room leaving him staring at the door.

                _What does she mean by that?_

                Like the last time it happened, Steve poured all his frustrations over on his sketchpad that afternoon. He zoned out every time he sketched but this time Steve couldn’t focus much because Natasha’s words were still lingering in his mind.

                _You have to move on at some point._

                Steve scoffed.

 

Steve got into a fight the next week. There were these guys that had a guy named Peter cornered on his locker. The guys were bigger than Peter and Steve saw himself on the guy –lanky, awkward, he had dark framed glasses, books clutched against his chest, being pushed by one of the seniors. So, Steve, by his nature, went to Peter’s rescue. And as usual he had his ass handed to him. Peter kept on thanking him as he led Steve to the infirmary.

                Not long after, Bucky came rushing into the clinic with his hair rumpled and a bruise on his cheek. He was eyeing Steve for injuries the moment he entered. Peter excused himself.

                “What the fuck were you thinking, you punk!”

                Steve just shrugged.

                After the nurse patched them up they were allowed to stay at the infirmary until the bell rang. Steve lay on one of the beds and Bucky sat on the edge. They were silent. Steve’s face hurt like hell and he was sure that Winifred wouldn’t be happy he got into a fight again. Sometimes he would wonder what his mother would do if she knew that her son was a stubborn piece of shit. Steve liked to think that his mother would yell at him and would hug him after all the yelling was done, telling him how proud she was for standing up to the bullies, for saving another kid. It’s a great memory, no matter how fictitious it was – one that made him smile and ache at the same time.

                “Stevie,” Bucky said, breaking the silence between them.

                “Hmm?”

                “I’m thinking of signing up for the military.”

                That had Steve sitting upright, looking at Bucky, searching for his face at some clues, something, anything that made that statement a figment of his imagination. But there was none. Bucky was looking at him with determination and hesitation at the same time.

                “Bucky . . .”

                “I want to serve this country.”

                Bucky was still looking at him. He was asking for permission, for assurance, Steve thought. If this was Bucky wanted then Steve would give it to him. So he nodded and just kept silent. He was in no place to ask Bucky to stay, to tell him that Steve wanted to be by his side forever. But he didn’t trust his brain to say anything so he kept his mouth shut.

                _This is the farthest we’ll go, I guess._

                They were still halfway on their senior year but Steve felt like he was already running out of time. And he felt like his lungs were being squeezed out of air.

                That night Steve stared at the ceiling as Bucky was brushing his teeth in the bathroom. From all the time he spent sharing a room with Bucky he had never felt the need to have his own space. And he needed one, badly. He didn’t trust his eyes to not start pouring out the moment he looks at Bucky. Steve knew it seemed petty, they still have a couple of months before they graduate, but Bucky was joining the army. And that started a litany of what ifs and negative scenarios in his head that Steve started to breathe hard. And it scared Steve to know that after highschool was over he would be on his own, for more than a decade he only had Winifred and Becca, but most importantly, Bucky. And now he was going to be separated from Bucky for the first time. The thought of separation itself was enough for Steve to shed the first tear.

                Bucky slipped into the covers not long after, Steve pretended to be asleep but Bucky had probably known him so much to know that Steve was still awake.

                “We’ll be alright, Stevie,” Bucky whispered.

                Steve shifted and sighed. Bucky perched his elbow to look at Steve and Steve stared back. It was dark and quiet but Steve could perfectly trace Bucky’s features by now even in the dark, hear his every breath.

                “We’ll be alright,” Steve whispered.

                And as if the fates weren’t done Bucky leaned in slowly, as if testing the waters, and when Steve didn’t move Bucky dipped his head and kissed him. Steve could feel his heart hammering in his chest. It was soft, it was slow, it was bittersweet, and Bucky’s lips tasted like that of his fantasies – even more so. This was all Steve ever wanted: confirmation. That he wasn’t the only one feeling things; that both of them were on the same page. And when they pulled apart, as they stared at each other’s eyes in the dim light provided by the moon, Steve thought, felt, that he was falling, already have been for years, for Bucky Barnes.

                And that kiss changed everything – would change everything.

                Steve learned that he liked being the small spoon that night. He liked the feeling of Bucky’s arms wrapped protectively around him, feeling the rise and fall of Bucky’s chest against his back, his hot breath on the back of his neck. The fates were cruel to give this to Steve when he already felt like falling apart.

                And as he was being lulled to sleep by Bucky’s steady breathing, Steve understood what Natasha meant.

                _You have to move on at some point._

                Giving Bucky’s hand one last squeeze, Steve thought to himself, _I couldn’t. I couldn’t even if I wanted to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be continued.

**Author's Note:**

> this is not beta read.  
> sorry for the errors.
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated! Let me know what you think.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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